You've only been cultivating for a few years, and you're already talking about cultivating

"Logically speaking, I should silence you both," Qi Fei said, looking at Tong Daoren and Butterfly Prince who emerged from behind the tree.

Tong Daoren's expression changed, and he unconsciously took half a step back, chuckling dryly twice: "Young friend, there's no need for that. We are all people who keep our mouths shut!"

He had seen the entire battle clearly from behind the tree.

The sword light that emerged from the shadows, the light in Qi Fei's hand that seemed capable of breaking through all laws, and Ying Wanning's head that rolled away.

He couldn't even beat Ying Wanning, let alone Qi Fei, who killed Ying Wanning.

The Butterfly Prince stood behind his master, nodding frantically, like a chick pecking at rice. He dared not indulge in his urge to speak carelessly.

Qi Fei looked at them and continued, "But I don't like following the rules. You can leave now."

He had no past grudges or recent grievances with Tong Daoren, yet he wanted to silence him simply because Tong Daoren witnessed him committing murder?

What's the difference between him and Ying Wanning?

So what if Tong Daoren knew he killed Ying Wanning? So what if he knew he possessed a unique sword technique?

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ]

He doesn't care at all.

Tong Daoren was taken aback for a moment, then felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and repeatedly cupped his hands in greeting: "Young friend, rest assured, my master and I will never speak carelessly."

"We saw nothing and knew nothing tonight."

The Butterfly Prince nodded repeatedly, knowing that his and his master's lives truly hung in the balance between Qi Fei and his master.

The master and apprentice turned around and slowly backed away, afraid of making a sound that might displease Qi Fei.

After taking a few steps back, seeing that Qi Fei did not make a move, he dared to turn around and quicken his pace.

I had only taken about ten steps when I suddenly heard two words behind me.

"Wait a minute."

Tong Daoren stopped abruptly, his face turning deathly pale. He slowly turned his head, his voice strained: "You want to go back on your word?"

As he spoke, a faint fluctuation of magical power appeared around him. Although he knew he was no match for him, his survival instinct made him prepare to fight to the death.

Qi Fei shook his head and said gently, "I have no regrets, but I wonder if Senior has ever heard of the Dao Proving Method?"

Tong Daoren was taken aback, and the fluctuations of his magical power gradually subsided.

"Well..." he sighed, "I have heard of it."

He glanced back at Butterfly Prince, then turned back and said, "The path of cultivation is extremely difficult. The methods we practice are all unorthodox and unsophisticated."

"Those truly heaven-reaching paths, those methods of enlightenment that allow one to ascend to heaven in one step, are all held by the major sects and sects."

"I've heard of the path to enlightenment, and I know it exists, but I don't know where to find it."

He shook his head and said with a wry smile, "Those major sects are like dragons, appearing and disappearing without a trace, hidden deep in the clouds, not places that we rogue cultivators can find."

He was telling the truth.

If he had the means to attain enlightenment, why would he have cultivated himself into a child who would never grow up?

As for the major sects, they were only legends. He spent decades searching everywhere, crossing countless mountains and rivers, and visiting countless places where "immortals were said to appear," but in the end, he couldn't even find a trace of a major sect.

After hearing this, Qi Fei clasped his hands in thanks and said, "Thank you."

Seeing that he was no longer asking questions, the Taoist priest turned around with a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to lift his foot, he suddenly stopped.

He stood there, as if he had remembered something, and hesitated for a long time before turning around.

"To the south," he pointed south and said, "two countries are locked in a fierce battle. It is said that both countries have cultivators backing them up."

He glanced at Qi Fei and said cautiously, "Perhaps... you could go and take a look."

Qi Fei's eyes lit up slightly.

"South?" He nodded. "I understand."

He was heading south. To the south of the South China Sea, to find the Floating Mountain Sword Sect mentioned by that "sword".

This road is convenient anyway, so taking a few extra steps or asking around along the way won't be a big deal.

"Farewell!" The Taoist priest and the Butterfly Prince clasped their hands in farewell and turned to leave.

They walked a very, very long way, so far that they could no longer see Qi Fei's shadow when they looked back, and only slowed down when they could see the sparse lights of Nanshan Town.

Tong Daoren suddenly gasped for breath. He had been under a lot of pressure just now, and he hadn't felt that feeling of being at the mercy of others for many years.

Butterfly Prince wasn't in much better shape, panting heavily.

"Disciple," the young Taoist adjusted his breathing, maintaining his master's dignity, and said, "Now you understand? Some excitements are best left unwatched."

The Butterfly Prince nodded vigorously, this time truly remembering it.

He suddenly remembered something, raised his head, and looked at the Taoist priest with an innocent expression: "Master, wasn't it you who wanted to go see him? You said he was curious and wanted to see what kind of person he was."

The expression on Tong Daoren's face froze for a moment.

"Isn't it because you don't believe me?" he retorted, raising his voice slightly, with an air of self-righteousness that said, "I'm the master, how could I be wrong?"

The Butterfly Prince opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Alright, you're the master, whatever you say is right.

Tong Daoren turned around and came into the area illuminated by the lights of Nanshan Town, saying, "Pack up, let's go."

"Let's go?" Butterfly Prince stood up. "Where to?"

Tong Daoren stood with his hands behind his back, looking at him. The moonlight shone on his eternally young face, reflecting a pair of eyes that had seen through the world.

"There used to be a sword immortal's residence here, but it's gone now, so of course we have to leave. As for where to go? The world is vast, and we'll go wherever there are immortals."

After hearing this, Butterfly Prince showed a tired expression.

"Master, I've been with you for several years," he counted on his fingers, "three years? Or four years? It seems like you've been running around the whole time."

"Today we go to this mountain, tomorrow to that valley, and the day after tomorrow we hear that there are traces of immortals in some place, so we rush there overnight, but we don't even see a hair of an immortal."

He paused, turned to look at Tong Daoren, his eyes filled with a long-accumulated confusion.

"You didn't teach me any special techniques."

The Taoist Master looked at him with the expectation of a junior: "It's not that I don't want to teach, but my method has a flaw. If you cultivate it to a deeper level, you will revert to childhood and even become an infant."

"By then, they won't be able to speak, walk, or even poop and pee in their pants. What kind of immortality are they supposed to cultivate? What kind of Tao are they supposed to seek?"

He sighed, "You are my disciple, and I'm afraid of misleading you!"

Cultivation is difficult, becoming an immortal is even more difficult.

Most people in this world are like his master, wallowing in the mire of spiritual practice.

There is no lineage of a major sect, no profound martial arts techniques, and not even a correct path can be found.

They ran around, inquiring everywhere, rushing to any slightest sound, like headless flies.

You crash and burn, you're covered in bruises, and in the end, you find yourself still going in circles.

Master Tong did not want to mislead the younger generation.

But on this path, most of the time, he has no choice.

Even the Butterfly Prince had no choice.